What's Best For The Family
by Willow Fireheart
Summary: Set during S5 ep Origin, Connor's thoughts about his past, his memory and doing what's best for his family. [Completed}


What's Best For The Family.

Spoilers- S5 Origin.

Disclaimer- Once again, don't own a thing. I just play with Joss's toys.

Note- Come on, we all know that Connor got his memories back. For this to work you have to pretend the conversation between Connor and Angel in Not Fade Away didn't happen, not that anything past Origin is actually mentioned in this.

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Connor walked beside Wesley down the corridors of Wolfram and Hart, the wood paneling gleaming under the lights. Connor looked out the corner of his eyes at Wesley, when he had met him earlier Wesley had looked good. Gone was the incredibly scruffy, bitter man; in his place was a tired, but somewhat pleasant man whose eyes were shadowed with grief. Now though he looked defeated, as if he had somehow tricked himself out of the greatest prize in the universe.

Connor scratched his head; he supposed it was because of the box Wes had broken. Maybe he thought that by breaking the box he could reverse time or something, anything to get Fred back. Connor's eyes darkened as he thought of Fred. When he first saw her body he just thought she was hot, now that he had his memories restored he could see why Wesley was grieving. Fred would never act like that, and the last time he checked she couldn't turn parts of her hair and skin blue and she definitely didn't have the strength he saw her possess. No, Fred was gone and something else lived in her body, using it as a shell or a suit, like in Men In Black.

"The medical wards are just down there, it shouldn't be too hard to find your… father." Wesley had stopped in the middle of the hall. "I would take you there myself, but… I have work that needs to be done."

Connor nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Good, good." Wesley turned and walked back the way they had come, his shoulders slumped and head bowed.

"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?" Connor called out.

Wesley froze, but didn't turn. He had been unable to look at Connor ever since the box had smashed against the floor; along with his memory, the shame and anger had returned to plague him. "Yes, Connor?"

Connor gnawed on his lip, internally debating whether he should tell him that his memory had returned. He shook his head. "It's just, … thank you for all your help."

Wesley laughed sardonically. "Don't thank me. I did nothing to help."

"No, you did. And I wanted to thank you for that." Connor insisted.

Wesley gave a sharp nod. "Alright, you're welcome." He paused. "Goodbye, Connor."

With that Wesley left, striding towards his office, his face like a thundercloud.

Connor watched him go. "Goodbye, Wes."

&&&&&&&&&&

Connor sat in an empty office, his feet swinging back to make dents in the wooden desk upon which he perched. For the first time in his life was going to sit and think before he acted. He smiled to himself; his mother always said that he acted too rashly. The smile faded from his face, she wasn't his mother. She was just someone that Wolfram and Hart had thought would be a perfect mother for him.

His memory was divided, like there was a fork in it that descended down two very different paths. On the left there was the all-American, apple pie life, the memories of his high school graduation, his girlfriend, his spot on the school football team, getting lost when he was five, his nice normal family, the epitome of a perfect life. Then on the right there was something much more horrific; the feeling of being ripped from somewhere safe and warm, the faint memory of a soothing voice, growing up with Holtz, learning to kill demons when he could barely run, the burning desire to kill his father, Cordelia, Jasmine, utter hopelessness and the desire to end it all.

They existed side by side in his mind, something that may have made any other person question which one was true. But Connor knew; he knew that the all-American life was a lie. Nothing was that perfect, not that life should be the hell that Connor's had been, but his life with his 'foster family' was far too stereotypical.

The thrill of the dark had come to him as he killed that Sahjahn guy, something he once craved. The power that filled him when he took a life, the rush of heady adrenaline and the feeling of invincibility that rushed through his body as the life seeped out of his opponent. It was something that he had craved once; the dark and the kill, it had filled his life like an addiction.

Now, though he knew that he couldn't spend all his time hunting. He couldn't take out his anger over his father on the demonic world any more. He had something to compare Angel against, a real father rather than Holtz. Holtz had never cared about him; he could see that now. He had just used him as a tool to exact his revenge against a creature that had been dead for many years. Holtz had poisoned him, brained washed him to the extent where there was no way Angel could ever fully take the role of Connor's father.

Well Holtz had his revenge, should he rot in hell, Connor had done everything in his power to destroy Angel and he had very nearly succeeded. Through Connor, Holtz had taken away the most important woman in Angel's life. Connor knew that Jasmine had lied; there was no way Cordelia would be able to survive giving birth to an ancient demon goddess. And because of Connor, Fred was gone too.

He couldn't return here if he wanted to, there was too much bad history, too many memories. But the Reillys didn't know anything about this world; they were floundering in blind, something that would get them killed. And they loved him; to them he was still their son. They had feed him, clothed him, sheltered him, loved him, cared for him. They were his family now and he couldn't turn his back on them He had to do something to repay them, he had to protect them; protect them like he could remember them trying to protect him.

"Connor?" His mother's voice floated through the door. She pushed the door open and leaned against the frame, a small smile on her face. "Connor, what are you doing in here?"

Connor jumped off the desk, trying to cover the deep dents his heels had imprinted in the hard wood. "Hey, mom. I'm just thinking."

She walked over and leaned against the desk next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Must be a first." She teased.

"Mom! I think!" Connor complained.

She smiled at him. "I know, honey. I'm just teasing. How did your time with Mr. Angel go?"

"Fine, we just did tests. You should see how much I can lift. They said I'm just a normal person with some extra abilities." He quickly lied.

"That's great, Con. I'm glad, let's go tell your father." His mother pulled him off the desk.

"Alright." Connor grinned as he let his mother pull him out of the room. Yes, they were his family now, and he had to do what was best for them.

&&&&&&&&&&

Connor waited for the elevator to arrive, he could feel Angel's eyes on him. He could feel boring into him, trying to analyse him. Connor had just told him that he had to do what was best for his family; but he didn't just mean the Reillys, he had done what was best for both of his families.

The ping of the elevator doors shook him out of his thoughts. He stepped inside, taking one last look at Angel. Connor stared at the doors as they closed, cutting him off from one of his families.

Connor spoke quietly, careful not to let anyone else hear. "Goodbye, dad."


End file.
